Near the Kremlin, dozens of people queue outside the presidential administration to submit petitions demanding an end to the government's crackdown on the internet. Russian authorities have tightened control over cyberspace, restricting access to global messaging apps and disrupting mobile internet services.
Petitioning the president is legal, but in an authoritarian state, it means sticking your head above the parapet. Security officers across the street film the petitioners and reporters.
"Aren't you scared?" I ask Yulia in the queue.
"Very scared," she replies. "I'm shaking."
President Putin has acknowledged the disruptions, describing them as related to "operational work to prevent terrorist attacks," though he says he has instructed officials to ensure "uninterrupted operation" of essential internet services.
Yulia, who owns a catering company, explains how censorship has hurt her business: "There were times when our website was inaccessible. We couldn't generate revenue. We lose money every time there's a blocking of the internet or messengers like Telegram and WhatsApp. My business is entirely online."
Russian officials insist the curbs are for public safety, claiming mobile internet blackouts disorient Ukrainian attack drones. However, drone attacks have continued even in areas where the internet is shut off. Authorities accuse global messaging platforms of ignoring Russian data laws, and access to WhatsApp and Telegram is heavily restricted. State regulators are also targeting VPNs used to circumvent restrictions.
As part of a push for a "sovereign internet," the Kremlin promotes a state-backed messenger called MAX. But the public is wary.
"Many people think this messenger is made by the government to check our messages," says former MP Boris Nadezhdin.
In many parts of Russia, the only sites and services that open on mobile phones are government-approved. It feels like a digital "Iron Curtain" is being constructed.
"The idea is to divide Russia from the outside world," says columnist Andrei Kolesnikov, "because this world is poisonous to the brains of Russians."
Yet Russians embraced the digital age, and the restrictions have come as a shock.
"It's less about freedom of speech and more about habit," activist Yulia Grekova says. "People got used to paying for things and ordering taxis with their mobiles. Everyone's affected."
I speak to Yulia in the town of Vladimir, 120 miles from Moscow. She recently tried to hold a rally against internet restrictions but was blocked by authorities.
"We applied for a venue and were told they'd be cleaning streets at all 11 proposed locations. Then city hall offered an alternative, but later said it wasn't possible due to drone attack danger," she says.
Then police visited her workplace, filming her as she signed an official warning. "I felt like a terrorist."
Similar applications were rejected across Russia, with authorities citing coronavirus or even a roller-skating masterclass as reasons.
In central Vladimir, I check my phone: taxi apps work, state media loads, but Google searches and independent news sites are blocked.
"It's much harder to communicate," says Maria, out with her baby. "We want to keep up with news, but we're lagging behind."
She adds: "In the past without internet, the world seemed brighter because we knew less. I try to avoid news about people being killed."
"Restrictions create daily problems," says Denis. "Today I couldn't pay for petrol, and my satnav glitches."
"People are annoyed, especially small business owners who lose customers," Alexander says.
"It feels like we're going backwards, sliding back to the past," says Yulia Grekova.
Is Russia's internet crackdown a road to the past? Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov disagrees: "Security considerations dictate measures. Most citizens understand. Once the need disappears, services will be fully restored."